


Walks Like A Memory

by nyx_aeternum



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Building Plot, Pre-Kingsglaive, Somewhat Fluffy, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyx_aeternum/pseuds/nyx_aeternum
Summary: Drautos and Crowe sit down together for a tradition they’ve built themselves—a weekly dinner for every Thursday night they shared in Insomnia, offering a companionship away from the rowdy crowd of their Glaive peers.During their final shared dinner, Drautos finds himself reflecting on what brought them to this point.
Relationships: Crowe Altius & Titus Drautos | Glauca
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: A Captain's Tale





	Walks Like A Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my piece for “A Captain’s Tale,” a Titus Drautos fanzine! It was so wonderful to work on this with everyone!

“...So I told him, ‘Ulric, if you even think about handing me that, I can and will run you through with your own kukri.’”

Drautos can’t help but smile as Crowe starts to laugh, her vibrancy filling the booth and inviting curious stares from some of their neighbors. He pays them no mind, instead focused on the woman sitting in front of him, the way she lifts her beer at the same time he does, the way her eyes crinkle like a woman he knew so long ago. It’s something like self-torture, subjecting himself to sitting in front of her every week, but no one ever said Titus Drautos couldn’t be greedy from time to time.

After all, this was for her. 

He listened to every story, even the ones he’d heard before, as they tumbled from pink lips, watching as Crowe’s cheeks rosied from the beer and the atmosphere. She laughed again, a melody like a song he knew from a life nearly forgotten, and hooked her leg up onto the seat to wrap her arm around it. How such a contorted pose was comfortable to her, he had no idea, but she seemed to enjoy it, digging into her food with a carefree attitude.

_ It’s for the mission.  _ That’s what he told himself when he made his way to this busy diner every Thursday evening that he was in the cushioned walls of Insomnia.  _ It’s to gain more knowledge about my underlings, to determine who I can draw into my plan and who to avoid.  _

A long time ago, he’d been naïve enough to think that maybe he could guide Crowe along the path that he’d taken, to seek the answers he’d pull from the man so hellbent on protecting his own son that he’d leave the rest of the world to rot. But like a lot of things, Crowe inherited her sense of justice. There was no way to bring the fiery young woman with him.

“Y’know,” Crowe starts, all of her rambunctious cheer gone. Drautos’ gaze zeroes in on her face, the sombre attitude, a drastic change to the happiness from before. In spite of her sudden quietness, there’s a small smile on her lips. “Of all the things that happened when I first joined the Glaive, I’m glad this little ritual of ours has stuck.”

There’s a pang in his heart as he lets his fork sit on the edge of his plate before it’s followed by a slight nod. He was glad as well, even if he blamed the reason for it on his mission, even if he hid his feelings on the matter behind posture and position. 

“You deserve a break from time to time, y’know? You work yourself too hard. Every time I see you, you’ve got bags under your eyes, you haven’t shaved and you look like you’re one more prank away from stringing Nyx up by his toes.” Drautos snorts, because she’s not wrong. His patience is running pretty thin when it comes to the flighty bastard, but for all his harsh words, he can’t ever seriously bring himself to punish him. “Anyway, if cracking a cold one with you means you’ll take that stick outta your ass, there are worse things I could be doing on a Thursday night.”

“Remember who runs your drills in the morning,” he warns. She laughs loudly then, the mood instantly growing lighter with the sound. He lets it distract him again because he knows that by this time next week, it’ll be a distant memory.

“Anyway, just go a little lighter on the guy.” He focuses on her face again and she offers a gentle smile, warm like a summer breeze, and it brings back yet another memory, one that makes the path he’s walking difficult. But he has to do this for her, needs to see it through. “Gate duty? He saved Libertus’ life. At least give him a little credit for that.”

“He disobeyed a direct order,” he says, shaking his head. “I get what he did. But there comes a point where I have to make him, and the whole Kingsglaive, understand that I’m the one in charge. Disobeying me has consequences.”

“Come on. He saved a life! At least take him off gate duty.” He gives her an unimpressed look. “Pretty please?”

“What if he’d died? It would have been a waste of two lives, not just one.”

“But he didn’t,” she points out. “So he saved a life.” He gives her a frustrated look and she bats her eyelashes, and she must believe she has him wrapped around her little finger. It only serves to remind him why this must be done, why it has to be her.

“Fine.” The word is short, curt, and he rolls his eyes at her pleased expression. The self-satisfied smirk on her lips is just another memory better left buried underneath the armor he hid like a second skin. “I’ll  _ think  _ about reassigning him. But if you breathe a word of this—”

“I’ll be lucky if the only thing you end is my career, yeah yeah.” She’s grinning as she finishes her beer and pushes her plate forward. “I’ll go pay the bill. It’s my treat for your good behavior.”

Even her walk as she slides out of the booth and makes for the entrance is too similar to the gait of a woman better left forgotten. He watches her absently for a moment, before he feels the vibration of the phone in his pocket. Slipping it out, he sees the message from Lazarus, a confirmation that the setup was in place, and he frowns. 

There was no going back, no starting over. He was doing this for her, for all of the ones who died just like she did, forgotten by a king who’d once promised them safety.

His eyes slid over to where Crowe stood, laughing with the man who was taking her payment, batting her eyelashes in an attempt to get the price of the beer off their check. It was a death he was sure he’d come to regret, but it was a necessary one. She was his biggest obstacle, she and all the memories she represented.

For Hearth and Home.


End file.
